Witch Hunt (Yandere Attack on Titan Various x Reader)

Prologue + A/N

Let's get some things straight before I start, so don't say I didn't warn you!

1. This is based on the Salem witch trials of 1692-1693, however, it will have a LOT of differences and may not be accurate to the time period (I'm not an expert about the olden days). This means the witches will be burned at the stake (in real history they were hanged), no slaves/racism, and there may be inventions that weren't around back then because I'm dumb lol.

2. All the main characters are aged up to adults if they weren't already. The yanderes include: Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Ymir, Krista, Connie, Sasha, Annie, Reiner, Bertolt, Marco, Jean, Hange, Erwin, and Levi. Our girls are not genderbent so you can either consider them romantic or platonic yanderes, depending on what you like/are comfy with.

3. Because of the storyline, there will be a lot of Christianity mentioned/used. This is a story, so PLEASE DO NOT comment "I'm not one" or start a debate. It's fine if you're not or you are, but this is just a story where it is necessary, and I'm keeping it to a minimum if possible, to make the reader as personality-ambiguous as possible. DO NOT TRY TO START ARGUMENTS/DEBATES IN THE COMMENTS ISTG

4. This will probably contain violence (literally there is a witch hunt), a bit of misogyny (think of the time period), yandere themes (shocking, I know), inappropriate content (still deciding), and swearing.

5. There may be secondhand spoilers either hinted at in my story or in the comments (try not to spoil in the comments though guys- I've read the whole manga but not everyone has) but since it's an AU, it won't be outright spoilers and I'll try to avoid it in general.

6. This has the lyrics to Witch Hunt. The song is by Ryotai and Suzuki-P and the English lyrics I use are by the incredible JubyPhonic.

Also, none of the images are mine.

PROLOGUE:

Warnings: death, violence

Come now gather around...

Hazel eyes beg for the answer to a desperate unasked question.

"Why me?"

The girl strung up on the stake is one you knew. Not well, no, but one that you saw in church every Sunday and in the market every now and then. You'd hardly exchanged words before, though you knew her name and could recognize her voice long before it screamed curses and pleas.

An orange glow casts across Hitch Dreyse's rounded face when the torch is brought near by the shouting minister and the poor girl pales at the sight of it. And, yet, her eyes barely leave your own.

It's as though the young woman needs a stranger to lock gazes with so she can handle the horror being brought down upon her. You'd give her that much respite, although you'd be lying if you truly thought you could look away from her either.

You'd always been good at telling what others were thinking (though you'd never say it out loud, unless you wanted to take Hitch's place on the stake) and there were two words the raggedly breathing girl seemed to be howling silently into the slightly setting sun.

"Why me?"

If Hitch was looking for an answer in you, she wouldn't find it, unfortunately. You had no idea why the crowd turned against her so suddenly- it was terrifying. If you had to point a finger, you'd point it at the group of gossiping young women that lived near her.

You didn't know much about her- even less before today- but you didn't really think "Hitch the Witch" was an accurate nickname, to put it politely. Hitch had an attitude and seemed to find it funny to rub others the wrong way.

Poor girl probably did nothing worse than sass the other girls, and now, here she was, preparing for her inevitable death.

As the minister finished his sermon, he dipped the torch to the straw and sticks below the helpless Hitch's bare feet. She screamed, bloodcurdlingly long, as the pile ignited, and the flames began to spread slowly but surely towards her bound body.

It was too much for you. Those hazel eyes filled with blank terror, wildly searching for some sort of respite, still boring into your own.

You looked away, breaking eye contact, and chose instead to stare hollowly at the cobblestone path below your shoes. Cowardly, maybe. But there was nothing you could do, even if you wanted to. The crowd would just throw you onto the blazing pile.

Humans don't burn. They melt.

A fact you never wanted to know and, years ago, would have thought you'd never know.

As you lay silently in your bed, eyes wide open and heart still pounding in your chest despite the fire having extinguished hours ago, you thought back to that harrowing scene.

You couldn't help but wonder if, for Hitch, the worst part wasn't the pain she'd endured and the fear leading up to her death. You wondered if, instead, the worst was the fact that her ear-splitting screams were almost completely drowned out by the jeering laughter.

That night you dreamt of hazel eyes reflecting towering flames and Hitch's voice, hoarse from overuse, chanting in your ears.

"Watch out! Watch out! You'll wish you shared my fate soon!"

                                                                                                                                 ...behold such a saddening tale.